JUNE 1ST - 3RD | AFTER THE ACCIDENT |
There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the
screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.
It's also the
last thing you remember from before waking up.
When you open your eyes, the accident is gone, replaced with white sterility. Perhaps somewhat alarming at first, until you blink at your surroundings and realize that you're in a hospital bed. You try to move but are sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember receiving, not to mention the possibility of the partially healed remnants of other, seemingly older wounds.
It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog where they're not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.
If the room happens to be empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in, taking your vitals and asking your name and anything else you might remember. Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma from the accident. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave.
Then you'll be left alone. Or maybe you'll find yourself visited by loved ones: family, or friends. You've lived here much or all of your life, so of course you have those things. Of course they already remember you being here, and may remember visiting you in the hospital while you were still unconscious.
Either way, the hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You might hear talk around the hospital of other small population spikes over the past few days, though many patients appeared to be well enough to be released the same day, and the same might be said of you. Or at least the staff doesn't seem to be too concerned. You can even leave your room without much fuss, any doctor or nurse that might try to intercept you getting called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.
Of course, it's not so unusual to settle in until you're discharged, either. You may choose to wait for loved ones to come pick you up, even speak to your fellow patients, whether roommates or others wandering the halls. The more enterprising and suspicious might even consider it an opportunity to poke around for a few basic answers.
JUNE 1ST - 4TH | GETTING USED TO HOME AGAIN |
However you get there, outside the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is just a bit crisp, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little mountain town of Wayward Pines, though that might just be some sort of side effect from your accident. Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and slightly waterlogged from the recent flood. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Fellow pedestrians spare you glances, some wary, others concerned or just friendly. It probably depends on how clothed you were when you left the hospital.
This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "
Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize (could be a good direction to head in, though — maybe it'll jog your memory), and one that you might: Wayward Pines Sheriff's Department. You've likely caught wind by now that any clothing or other items you had on you at the time of your accident are being held by the Sheriff until you're well enough to claim them. Not to mention the keys to your home, kept locked and safe at the station for you. That should probably be your next stop, though if anything's missing in what they hand over you'd be the last to know.
It's time to get home, to recover from your ordeal and try to sort through your memories. Do you remember this house, the pictures of family on the walls and how to navigate to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Maybe it's easier with loved ones living with you, helping you get settled, or maybe you're on your own. Either way, over the next few days it's a good idea to try to remember your routines, to get out and finally visit Main Street if you haven't already. Maybe you even remembered that you work in one of the more familiar sounding shops, or elsewhere in town. Makes sense they'd give you some time off to recover and get reacclimated to your life here, but eventually you should probably get back to work. You haven't seen your co-workers in a few days, and besides, you have to be able to put bread on the table.
JUNE 5TH | GLUG GLUG'S GRAND OPENING! |
Town hall is listening, and town hall has heard you loud and clear (their surveillance equipment is of the highest quality, after all). While there appears to have been some... clerical issues and red tape concerning the highest voted name, when the fifth rolls around the newly completed and lovingly anointed
Glug Glug's opens its doors to the public for the official grand opening!
For an old diner, this place has undergone an amazing transformation, with a ground, second, and basement floor all open to the public and offering a wide variety of entertainment options within:
The ground floor features a long bar along one wall where one can order coffee, tea, soda, hot chocolate, whatever your little caffeinated heart desires, as well as alcoholic drinks 10% or under — provided you can show some form of ID, of course. Linda, perched at the bar with a mimosa in hand, will tell anyone who listens that
she voted for Pubby McPubface, but honestly, who's listening to Linda, anyway? Pastries and small appetizers are also available at half price for the special event, and card and board games make inviting and colorful centerpieces on the tables scattered around the room (there are classics like Monopoly and the rousing game of Jenga in the corner, amongst less common fare you
may not have played before, like Cards Against Humanity and Settlers of Catan).
A lounge on the second floor overlooks the ground floor and features plush couches and chairs, ambient lighting and a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere to contrast with the low buzz of activity below. A small balcony out back provides a peaceful, quiet view of some of the very pines after which our town was named.
The basement is where anyone interested will find music, dance, billiards and booze. A small stage on one end features regular local live performances, with a vast stretch of the room devoted to a dance floor and just a few private booths set into the wall around the edges. The bar down here serves the harder stuff to those that can prove they're old enough to be handling it, and one corner of the room is devoted to a billiards table and two large pinball machines.
Technically the basement level is open to all ages, but getting down there requires showing your ID and getting your hand stamped, and anyone under 16 is
highly encouraged to be accompanied by an adult. And, of course, anyone caught sneaking drinks to minors will be summarily kicked out, as well as reported to Sheriff Griffith for a good talking to about, you know, civic duty and such. It's honestly not worth it, you
know how he goes on.
Today is supposed to be a party after all, let's not spoil it just yet.
MOD NOTES
Welcome to our fifth mingle log for newbies and oldbies alike!
This log is meant to cover characters' first five days in Wayward Pines. Characters for this round will appear staggered in the hospital between the
1st and the
3rd, and a CR building event will occur on the
5th, after everyone has had a suitable amount of time to get settled in town. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although their false Wayward Pines memories may also begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the week wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.
PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE:
Character Name,
date,
location, and
Open or
Closed, to help keep things organized and make your character easy to find.
If you have any questions regarding this intro log, feel free to ask them on the FAQ or the relevant plurk.
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pineslog2017-05-31 09:13 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
no subject
she doesn't know it yet but it does give her a different impression of him without those memories or even remembering how their friendship had a rocky start. it's just a feeling she gets about him but it makes her more inclined to trust what he tells her. clarke finds her expression soften slightly as she looks at him but the the moment he claims to be fine, she gives him a more serious look] No, you're not. Come on, you know I'm right— just let me take a look so that your injuries don't get worse.
no subject
[ that's clarke, right there. she may look at him in a vague sort of way, but she says things that drive him nuts. he hates it when she's right, as it often means he's wrong. it's a thought he has, spurring out of the moment, untethered to anything but a mere feeling. he has no memory of him being wrong and her being right, no recollection of where this odd feeling of being endeared stems from. ]
[ it bubbles until he puts it out, purposefully dousing it as he looks at her with an expression that's definitely guarded. if she remembered him, she'd know the look he's giving her — walls erect, shoulders back, his i'm fine and there's more important things to do speech at the ready. ]
I'm not going to die, Clarke. [ he'd roll his eyes if he was that type of guy. he looks at her, holds out for a couple of seconds, before his expression breaks. ]
Fine. But I'm okay. It's just a few scratches.
[ and purple bruising around his neck, which may explain why his voice is slightly husky. ]
no subject
clarke is just about ready to make her point again when he finally relents but she can't help but roll her eyes at his words. she had a few minor injuries herself but he looked in much worse shape than she did right now given that the bruising around his neck doesn't escape her notice either] I wouldn't call those just a few scratches.
I know you're not going to die but if you really are just fine, it should only take me a few minutes to confirm that. [she pauses for a moment, giving a slight shrug of her shoulder] Besides, you can't expect me not to be concerned if you're already in my house and have those sort of injuries.
no subject
Sorry, Clarke, but this is my house. [ with an attitude close to how he'd exerted himself back on the ground during the first few days of being on the ground, he looks at her matter-of-factly and confidently says: ] I live here. That's why I'm here. [ his lips curve upward at the corners. ] Not here because it's yours, but that's cute.
[ it's a tangent he'd been hoping for to distract her from focusing on him. ]
no subject
she hadn't explored too much of the house yet beyond bathroom where she found out first found bellamy and assumed he was an intruder at first but she has a feeling there was there was some sort of reasonable explanation she was missing in all this. ] Your house? No, that's not—
Are you sure? They gave me the keys to this house when I went to pick up my things at the Sheriff's station and told me this was the address where I lived.
no subject
[ the cogwheels in his head had begun to turn — clicking and clacking into place. bellamy's expression seemed to appear slightly smug, until it began to slowly shift into him realising what it meant. ]
[ his brows pulled together thoughtfully. then, he bypassed her, shoulder brushing her own as he walked out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom. his intent was to look through the photographs on the mantel — and what he had suspected was proven true by what he found in those frames. ]
[ if she follows him, she'll find him standing with a photograph in hand, him frowning down at it. ]
no subject
bellamy definitely looks smug about it as if he knows something she doesn't and that frustrates a little her given how little she remembers. before she can question him further or say anything else though, bellamy pushes right past her and out of curiosity she follows along right behind him into one of the bedrooms.
she notices the shift in his expression from the moment he grabbed one of the framed photos and seems to stare it. clarke didn't know what he found but she can't help but find herself concerned once again] Hey— Bellamy? Are you okay?
no subject
[ he stands with a frame in his hands, still and almost trapped in time with how his posture doesn't shift. there's a wrinkling to his brow, but that's all. he barely hears her as he tries to place the moment the photograph has captured, and finds that it's blurry, as though thick clouds have descended upon him and he has no hope in seeing what's in front of him. ]
[ looking up at her, he moves over toward her. he shows her the photograph. it's a picture of the two of them, together and looking all too happy and comfortable. ]
Do you remember this?
no subject
clarke finds herself struggling to recall anything about the picture itself but there's a vague sense of familiarity about it like she should be remembering when the moment in the photo took place] I feel like I should but— sorry, I don't remember that either.
I know you were probably hoping for a different answer.